


Me to thee, thee my half, my all, my more.

by Judith H (Elizabeth_Mary_Holmes)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabbles, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Mary_Holmes/pseuds/Judith%20H
Summary: Again a little drabble compilation in various verses. Each drabble is a stand-alone and the warnings concerning each will be in the notes! (the title comes from a verse in John Donne's “Sapho to Philaenis”) Those were written first in French for the Collectif NoName Drabble Workshopand and were then translated.





	1. Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles are written during the Collectif NoName Drabble Writing Workshop. . Enjoy your reading and thank you for coming! I hope you'll like it. Feel free to comment.

Sun goes down and moon goes up. 

From blue, the sky now becomes red and then orange. 

Now, it is all about peace and pleasure as the flame-coloured sun tints the high windows of the mansion with its last fires. 

In the library, Erik’s hair is burnished gold and under his deft hands, Charles moans and sighs. 

His exhaustion disappears on a brush of those devoted hands on his flat chest and on the soft curves of his bottom. Kisses that are a haven for the lost seaman and the caresses are like a prayer of words unknown to Earth.


	2. Fan

Charles Xavier never was a man to be bothered with gender conventions.

When he goes to opera along with his luscious lover, he wears long white gloves and a gorgeous cotton muslin Empire dress that flatters his thin body. 

Erik goes for ivory silk stockings and breeches. His stiff prick is increasingly painful but hopefully, Charles knows when it is time for him to get rid of his fan and take care of his partner. 

The firm and dexterous hand enjoys herself very much, he is no longer watching the stage, the show in the box is much more interesting.


	3. Nocturne

Against the piano, much against the piano. This evening has nothing of a Chopin’s Nocturne if it was not for the delicious opposition between the dark and lacquered instrument and the pale and sweaty skin of his beautiful boy. 

Erik plays with him with respect and devotion. A brush, a caress, are enough to create a symphony to be heard by him solely. He knows the music by heart but would never grow tired of it. The tune changes but the devotion remain. 

That night like every other night, it is the grand _première_ of the Nocturne in Charles Xavier.


	4. Smack

Many Summers, young Charles Xavier had came by the small pond find solace in the quiet night. 

Tonight, though, he came for the fine piece of man that was his best friend. Best friend he was kissing in such a way the moon could have blushed. The air had smelled of musk and the intoxicating perfume of linden and Summer nights. 

A toad croaked and Charles burst out laughing.  
At last, he had found his Prince Charming even if that one was poorly shaved, and that he was accepting gladly the fumbles of his clumsy hands under his crumpled shirt.


	5. Haze

For the moment, his mind is still hazy, Erik’s familiar presence is here but it is one in a flurry blur. After his first Earl Grey cup it should be better. Tea always makes it better. 

Once washed, shaved and dressed, it gets clearer. Erik is still asleep, his strong arms are hugging the bolster. His features are soft and appeased. 

Then Charles will sit in his armchair at the bottom of their bed and will watch him comfortably stir from his slumber and once Erik is completely awake he will drop on his lips a mint and bergamot-flavoured kiss.


	6. Fedora

“Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time." Charles complies, his throat constricted as he slips a hand on the nape of the man he considers to be his husband, fingers combing through his hair. He pushes back his fedora that fall on the floor with a thump. 

They don’t feel concerned as Erik slips his hands under Charles’s trench-coat and get him closer to his body, hugging him by the hips. The lamppost flickers, Erik walk away, to his duty. Soon all that is left of him is the smoke of his cigarette in his wake.


	7. Silence

If silence is golden and speech is silver, what about soft and lustful caresses? If silence is whisper and speech a psalm of praise, what about heated kisses? 

If Erik love Charles and Charles love Erik, aren’t caresses and kisses the Midas touch where everything become gold under the trained fingers? 

Does the body of the lover becomes like an altar to a long-forgotten divinity? 

The libations go freely. Sometimes it is in the secret of their rooms or at some other times it is in not so-private places, but each intercourse, in the sanctification of their bodies, become sacred.


	8. Shine

His cerulean blue eyes are the beacons in his inner storms. His rock. They sparkle with passion or they can so suddenly darken with desire. Erik drowns in those pools. 

In the grey-green eyes, Charles sees anger, old and powerful, rage too but for a short while he sees respect, and even something very much akin to love. 

Even more than getting lost in the eyes of the other there is something good in seeing him early in the morning; closed eyes, brow unfurrowed and knowing that the first and last person you will see that day is the Other.


	9. Seed

A wheat field, a Summer night, the crickets, the poppies that had just closed their beautiful red gown. On the side, a century-old tree several time struck by lightening and two boys. Fifteen and seventeen. Sneaked fags. Charles coughs, Erik laughs. 

Discarded fags, a much more pleasant activity, love-heated kisses, adventurous hands under crumpled shirts. they want to make love. Clumsily opened trousers. Cautious, yet hungry fingers. Seed spread in dry grass. A shout to the blushing moon. More laughing. 

They promised they would meet each-other there every evening. Till the end of that perfect Summer when their paths crossed.


	10. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU

It was already his 20th school year at Hogwarts and yet Charles was always marvelling at his school. Deep down he was still the little boy discovering a brand new world where he was accepted and praised. 

Each year was a new beginning in itself. To finish the timetables, to get sure the supplies were delivered on time, to write his speech for the feast... He promised himself that he will always take time for a chess game with his DADA teacher of a husband. 

But this year was extra-special… for the first time Charles Xavier was to be headmaster.


	11. Florence

Florence. Tell me about that studio and its ochre walls. Allow me to gaze upon that lithe and pallid body, allow me sketch its curves on my sheet and under my fingers. My muse is bewitching me and I, sick of his charms, can think of him only.

His name is Charles, fit for a king and that’s over me that he rules. His cruel yet sweet hand on my reddening prick she holds like a sceptre. But the triumph of my king is in the delicious ache he is to my heart. I have an unquenchable thirst of him.


	12. Cabaret

As soon as he entered the room, he noticed the red carpet and the black flocked wallpaper. His first thought is that he pushed the wrong door. No Erik, it was not a house of ill repute….

However, that won’t prevent him from wishing that he could whisper to the gorgeous boy swaying his hips on the stage a famous quote from a Dos Pasos 1921 novel: _“ Voulay Vous couchay aveck moy? “_.

And that’s where Charles Xavier danced his way into Erik Lehnsherr’s life: at the stage door of a tiny cabaret and the rest is now History.


	13. Gorgeous

For many wannabes artists in that studio, the curves of a statue from Il Bernini were highly enjoyable. It was not the case for Erik Lehnsherr. Should he have an ideal, it was more likely to be Michelangelo’s David.

His gorgeous model in that glass-roofed room had nothing of a David or even less of a Venus but to him he was most desirable. An alabaster skin, a swan-like neck, red velvet lips, and cobalt blue eyes. 

Exhilarated moans murmured and muttered in a matter of minutes, a debauched smile, the carnal crime of a charming lover, his living Galatea.


	14. Saturation

The photograph had nothing of a picture a professional would take, the saturation was bad and the framing rather … odd yet he still had it in his desk’s top drawer. 

A day in July, his birthday, he had drunk too much for his own good. Sometimes he would get the framed picture out of the drawer with a smile when he thought no-one watched him. 

Because he would never forget that Summer late afternoon. The air had smelt faintly of lime trees and heady jasmine and in the corner of a blurry picture he was kissing Erik Lenhsherr senseless.


	15. Separation

Tonight as night falls in midnight blue, I will go.   
You don’t know but I am waiting for you.  
I will wander by streets and mews, I will go round your world.  
I can no longer be away from you. 

Blind to the orange sun rising and to the silvery moon waking, I will walk.   
I never see anything else than your face. Loved.   
Myself alone, sad and stooped.   
Day will be night and night will be dark. 

And when I will find you,  
I will shower your too dry lips with a bouquet of kisses and teary caresses.


	16. Hypnos

Tangled in his bedsheets like in some odd Greek toga gripping on him like some sort of nightmarish beast. He is truly Erebos and Nyx’s son, a genuine reincarnation of the well-known Hypnos. 

Sometimes, when his heart become too painful, he wishes to drink Lethe’s infernal brew. That’s not the nightmares that jag him the most. It’s more about the gorgeous and bright dreams. On a start, he will wake and realise it’s all dreams and chimeras.

But he swears it on all gods, old and new, that kiss was real. Its ghost is still dancing on his lips.


End file.
